


Two heads are better than one.

by raisesomehale



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Crack, Cursed Derek, Curses, Derek gets cursed by a fairy and ends up with a talking dick, Fae & Fairies, Fairies, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Pining, SERIOUS CRACK OK, a lot of rapping, and also mens yoga pants, dereks dick is named richard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:29:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raisesomehale/pseuds/raisesomehale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott calls and asks him to come out to investigate a person they believe to be a trickster of some sort. Derek tells him to go on ahead; he has more important things to do. Like sit at home and wonder how his life went from killing his uncle, dealing with his uncle coming back from the dead, killing a vengeful and malevolent lizard spirit, surviving the Alpha Pack, somehow getting all the pack to graduate, to Derek now having a talking dick.</p><p>Talk about down size.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two heads are better than one.

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[翻譯] Two heads are better than one 一人計短二人計長 by raisesomehale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701739) by [malucko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/malucko/pseuds/malucko)



> [Megan](http://awolfinamask.tumblr.com/tagged/itsderekspenis) was role playing with a "Derek's penis" blog so this is all her fault.
> 
> Also total and complete thanks to [Neda](http://nedafish.tumblr.com/) for being insane with me while I wrote this, and also for being a wonderful beta.
> 
> -
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> 
> _This work was written and posted for my own, and the readers entertainment. Therefore I do **not** give anyone associated with Teen Wolf, (be it PR, production, the writers, the crew, the cast, press teams, etc.,) permission to extract excerpts from this story in order to be read aloud of shared publicly. I also do not give any third party websites, (be it Goodreads, ebooks-tree, etc.) permission to take what I have written and post it on their sites. Furthermore, I wish for my works to remain **only** where I have posted them, so they may be enjoyed and read amongst fans and no where else._

So there's a Fairy raising havoc in Beacon Hills.

Which should be surprising but really, they just should have seen it coming.

And it's not that they don't know how to deal with her, but going to Deaton and being handed some magic voodoo powder to toss at her face sounds like it would be easier said than done.

 

Which is how Stiles gets handed the vial of red powder, of course, because he’s the resident spark, and Derek sets out into the clearing after him so he doesn't get, viciously maimed or eaten or something, because that would be a shame. The pack is nearby, somewhere hidden in the bushes and trees surrounding the clearing like a ragtag bunch of puppies.

The Fairy appears in a quick explosion of purple light, all hocus pocus, which Stiles quickly voices was a little overdone and too 'witchy' for his liking. But no one asked him, and honestly, they're more likely to get out of here alive if Stiles doesn't speak.

“Just, stay behind me,” Stiles snorts from behind Derek's back, before he's grabbing Derek's shoulder and walking around him to stand at his side.

“Yeah, because I'll totally be able to throw the magic cake flour from behind your big head.” Stiles whispers into his ear as he passes to stand a little in front of him. The Fae smiles as she sees Stiles coming into view.

“Hello, little ones,” her voice is soft, almost old in the way the words come out slow, yet steady. It contradicts her appearance in a way, her beauty haunting and innocent. If Derek looks past the white locks that frame her face, her sharp eyes are the only part of her that doesn't seem calm. They're beady and they never seem to stop shifting.

She's standing in the circle of white ash they had been laid to summon her, but all the circle serves in doing is forcing her to appear; they aren't fooled to believe she couldn't walk out of it and slice their heads off with the long shark nails that she possesses in her true form. “What can I do for you?” She says it like she's addressing both of them, but she doesn't take her eyes off of Stiles.

“Well now that you ask, it'd be great if you got lost and stopped, you know, killing everyone and their pets,” Derek thinks that if they weren’t about to be killed at any minute, he would grudgingly admire Stiles' ability to speak without thought regardless of the situation.

The Fae tips her head to the side, like she doesn't exactly understand what Stiles was asking of her, “I'm unsure who you are exactly. Tell me, why should I listen to you?”

If Derek wanted to, he could reach his hand out and touch her face, but being this close to the Fae doesn't mean it will be easier to get this done. “It doesn't matter, just leave before we make you,” Derek snaps, the Fae only looks from Stiles to Derek, and laughs.

“He doesn't matter?” She points a long finger in Stiles' direction, “Are you sure about that?” She decides then to finally take a step out of the white circle. Once she's out, she eyes the distance between them, before looking Derek up and down, “I'm sure not all of you feels that way.” She looks back towards Stiles. “You're the smart one, I presume? You communicate and think well enough with only one head, though you willingly work with others.” Her hair slides over her shoulder as she turns back to Derek, “But you, you never seem to work well with others.” She lifts one of her fingers and drags it down his cheek, “Haven't you ever heard that 'two heads are better than one'?”

It's then that Stiles throws the magic powder at her, and she rears back and lets out an awfully loud and hair raising screech, before her head whips around to face Stiles, her true form revealed, with sharp teeth and hollowed eyes. Derek is there before she can reach Stiles, however at last minute it becomes obvious her destination wasn't Stiles in the first place. “The damage is already done, the curse is set,” she snarls in Derek's face before erupting in a fit of manic laughter, both literally and figuratively.

“That was... interesting,” Stiles says from somewhere behind him, Derek's eyes are on the ground, trained on the spot the Fae had just sunk into. “She _literally_ disappeared into _laughter_. What.”

“You're telling me,” a voice says, but when Derek turns, it wasn't Stiles. The pack is coming out of their hiding places now, and when he searches their mouths, none of them are moving, but someone is still talking, “Fuck it's hot in here, do me a solid and let me out, yeah?”

“What.” Stiles says.

Stiles cautiously drops his gaze down Derek's chest, and when Derek follows, it's him who pointedly says “What,” in the direction of his pants.

 

x.x.x

 

Stiles is on the floor of the clearing, laughing his ass off. Derek glares at him but its only real tangible effect is causing his dick to say, “No one is going to want in your pants with that frown,” which causes Stiles to collapse in a new fit of giggles.

“I'm, I'm sorry it's just...” he wipes at the happy tears, “But she was all 'two heads are better than one',” Stiles chuckles, imitating the Fae's voice poorly, “And now you _literally_ have two heads to think for you.”

“It's not funny.”

“Do you think it has like, a tiny mouth and matching eyes to go along with it?” Erica questions as she crouches to get eye level with his dick. Derek is going to have a fucking aneurism before he's thirty. “Can I see-” Derek slaps the hand that was reaching forward with a growl and a firm 'no.' She stands and crosses her arms with a pout.

“Spoil sport,” comes from the lower vicinity of his body.

“Shut up,” he yells down at it, which is when Boyd cracks a smile.

Scott is a step away from Stiles, who is on the floor by Derek's feet where he can look down upon him, “Dude, you're yelling at your dick.”

Stiles scoffs, “You can't will a dick into behaving, dude, I should know,” he says this from the floor, where he's looking up at Derek through his spread legs and...

“Fuck, that's obscene,” comes from below, and yeah, Derek is a little worried.

 

x.x.x

 

By some miracle, his dick had stopped talking after everyone had left the loft. Apparently the prick likes an audience. He has a sneaking suspicion this experience will result in him being peer pressured by his dick into doing porn.

Scott calls and asks him to come out to investigate a person they believe to be a trickster of some sort. Derek tells him to go on ahead; he has more important things to do. Like sit at home and wonder how his life went from killing his uncle, dealing with his uncle coming back from the dead, killing a vengeful and malevolent lizard spirit, surviving the Alpha Pack, somehow getting all the pack to graduate, to Derek now having a _talking_ dick.

Talk about down size.

Sometimes Derek thinks the universe throws these things at him because it gets a special type of joy from his pain. What a fucking sadist.

 

x.x.x

 

Stiles tells Derek that he's going to call his dick “Richard, get it, because 'Dick' is short for 'Richard'.”

“You're not allowed to name my dick.”

“I like Richard. Richard can stay. So can you, Stiles.” Everyone is against Derek - Even his own penis. He doesn't know if Stiles smiling brightly makes it worse, or better.

 

x.x.x

 

“What about her?”

“Eh… Nice rack, no ass, big heels. Five out of Ten”

“What, do _heels_ matter to you?”

“Depends how well they can wrap around a waist.”

“Will both of you shut the fuck up?” Derek growls across the table at Stiles, who has subtly been people watching, _with his penis._

“I think you are completely missing the awesomeness of the situation, how many times can you get a completely unbiased opinion on who attracts you sexually?” Stiles wiggles his fingers to punctuate the last word.

“Pfft. Unbiased.” Derek pushes up from the table, ignoring the undignified “Hey” coming from below him.

“I'm going to the bathroom.”

He pushes through the swinging door and walks over to the sink, “Hey, stop ruining this for us. I might actually get Stiles to like us and then we can finally have some fun.”

Derek grumbles and presses a tad too hard on the soap dispenser, “I don't want to have fun.”

His dick laughs, which still freaks him the fuck out because his dick kinda sounds like Morgan Freeman.

“Bullshit. I don't even need to know what you keep locked up in your freaky little werewolf spank bank to know what you think about Stiles. What is he to you like... a seven?”

“I'm not critiquing Stiles on his relative hotness - _Especially_ not to you.”

“So you do think he's hot.” Derek leaves the bathroom because he thinks he's actually getting relationship advice from his own dick. Which is pointless because he is not in a relationship. With anyone. Even if he wants to be. Which he does not.

When he sits back down Stiles smiles around a chewed up straw, it distracts Derek until he hears, “Ehh, Derek, what about that one over there?”

Going against his better judgment, he looks up, and falters for a second. He isn't sure if it was who Richard had meant, but he's also not sure if he cares. He thinks for a second, and looks up and over their features again and again, from their eyes to their nose to their mouths, to thinking about their annoyingly endearing mannerisms. Before Stiles can even turn around, Derek quietly and begrudgingly mutters, “Ten outta ten.”

“Really? Ten out of ten?” Stiles eyes grow comically and he spins around so fast, Derek thinks their table is going to fall over. He puts his hand on his chin and makes a thoughtful noise, pretending to scope out the area. “No, no!” He lifts up a finger to silence any attempts Derek had in telling him who he saw, “I wanna guess who it was that came into Applebee’s and ended up a ten out of ten on Derek Hale's radar,”

Stiles bites down on his lip in concentration, and by some miracle Richard is actually whispering when he says, “I'm not too fond of biting myself. But you are,” Derek rolls his eyes and slumps back in his chair. He doesn't care though, because the mirror that Richard had pointed out behind Stiles shows even more of his reflection from this angle.  


x.x.x  


So, Derek was pretty used to his dick's constant comments and innuendos, but what he wasn't ready for, what he should have been more concerned about, was what would happen when he, say, got excited.

Fuck knows how this had escaped his mind considering _it's a dick._ Both literally and figuratively.

Unfortunately, Derek didn't have to wait very long to find out. Because, apparently, Stiles was curious too.

“No.”

“Oh come on-”

“No.”

“Seriously, dude. We have to approach this like it's a science experiment, okay, record data and-”

“My dick is not a _science experiment_ , Stiles.”

“I'll be your science experiment.”

Stiles points to Richard and says, “See? Even Richard is willing to cooperate.”

“Oh baby I'll do more than just cooperate.”

Derek glares down at his pants, like he can will the curse away if he just stares long enough.

“Deaton said-”

“Deaton said that he didn't know; that it would _probably_ wear off.”

“Key word: Probably, so we might as well do as much as we can to figure it out.” Stiles crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. Derek wonders why Stiles is so invested in helping him out, but instead of asking, he matches that eyebrow and raises him a hopefully menacing, and loud, growl. Stiles arrogantly growls right back at him, possibly louder, and claws the air.

And his dick, Jesus just kill him now, _twitches_ , and says, “I like him.” Derek is just going to politely crawl out the window with whatever dignity he has left, and bury himself somewhere in the woods alive. Stiles on the other hand, lets out a surprised laugh, his eyebrows shooting up and his mouth curving up on one side.

Derek wants to make it clear that he hates _everything_.

That is until his dick finally comes through for him and says, “He doesn't put up with your shit. Now let the guy play the fucking porn.”

Stiles turns away after that, but says, “You should listen to Rich more often,” and that's exactly what Derek should never do _ever,_ actually.

 

x.x.x

 

So from 1 to 10 on the scale of mortification, watching porn while sitting next to Stiles is only a rough 7.

Stiles apparently wasn't sure what Derek was, “into” or whatever, given he never asked, so he made the decision for him and put on a straight porn film.

Derek wonders if Stiles has an entire folder filled with porn, and maybe it's not just straight porn; Dick seems excited by the idea of that.

Derek is only remotely turned on, it may be because it's straight porn, or that his dick is becoming more and more interested with the idea of Stiles. Derek is more trying to not flinch when he watches about 4 guys go at 1 girl 'like they do on discovery channel.'

Stiles keeps flicking his gaze to the side at Derek's crotch, like he's actually being discrete while doing it. Derek rolls his eyes.

“This ain't doin' it for me, put on something else,” Dick speaks up after the second guy had gone down on the girl. This is going to be a long night.

 

x.x.x

 

Around the fourth or fifth film they have watched, a spark of arousal shoots through Derek's lower abdomen, traveling lower towards Richard. He isn't sure why, because he's almost positive that this straight porn is very much not doing it for either him or Dick.

Derek has half a mind to open up his pants and say, “what is it boy? What did you see?” Partially because of his growing insanity, when a loud moan emits from the computer screen and Derek's eyes shoot up, is his... is his dick attracted to things that he isn't? Richard twitches again, and Derek.. Derek flicks his gaze over to Stiles.

Who is getting increasingly hard by the minute.

Abort, abort, code red, disengage.

Unfortunately Derek's dick does not get the message, and does not in fact disengage because apparently the source of his arousal _is Stiles' arousal._ Which... what? Can he see Stiles' dick? Can he like... smell it? How does this even work because Derek did in fact check, and there are no miniature eyes or mouth on his dick to where he would have any indication that Stiles was turned on. But Stiles is also shifting in his chair every now and then and... Fuck. Derek doesn't know how he had missed _that_.

It seems to click in Derek's head that Stiles is getting hard because Stiles is turned on by this, which really should be as easy as putting two and two together but well, Derek has other things distracting him. His eyes flick to the screen, curious to see what exactly put Stiles in this state. It's just a man and a woman on a bed, nothing out of the ordinary, but if you asked Derek, a lot better than the 4 on 1 combo. The only difference that Derek can tell is... is that they're going doggy style on the bed. Which is when he feels a sudden rush of arousal hit close to home, home being his annoyingly talkative dick.

When he checks back with Stiles, Stiles isn't watching the screen anymore, he's staring open mouthed across the way at Derek's dick, and, “Oh fucking christ I want it so bad, letmeout, letmeout, letmeout,” there it is. The last shred of his dignity, thrown out the window by the voice in his pants. He plans to follow his dignity's lead when he bolts up right, causing the chair to topple over.

“I gotta-”

“Don't you dare leave me high and dry you fucking prick, put me in,” needless to say, Derek basically jumps for the window.

 

x.x.x.

 

When Derek gets home, Richard is still bitching about Derek not 'making a move' back at the Stilinski residence.

'Making a move' in Dick’s mind means attacking Stiles' face with Derek's newly cursed dick.

“You are a fucking masochist.”

“Shut up.”

“I want to go back to Stiles! I wanna meet Stiles' dick! And you want it just as bad as me!” Derek groans, but only because his dick is an annoying asshole. That's the only reason.

“Go back there and give me what I want right fucking now you malicious prick!”

“No!” He shouts but Richard is still very much intrigued, and it's getting harder to ignore. Ha. Harder.

It even seems like he's doing it... on purpose? “Come on, please? Pretty please with a cherry on top please? He probably wants it too,” is it possible for dick's to scoff? “Why else would he get aroused when there was a dick and an asshole involved.”

“Is that why you freaked out? He was aroused because of a _woman,_ ” is Derek really having this argument? Really? “And even if he is attracted to that sort of thing, it doesn't mean he likes me,” so he is having this argument, alrighty then. Fighting with his dick. That's actually a first for him.

“Who cares about liking someone when you get to _cum?_ ” Derek stuffs a pillow over his lap. Dick hungry heathen.

 

x.x.x

 

“Fuck, I'm horny,” Derek is ignoring Dick right now in favor of Mens magazine, which always used to will away his erection but now, no such luck. His brain is slowly starting to melt.

“You're always horny, nowadays.”

“Which is your fault you know, if you would just give me this one solid I-”

“Not gonna happen.”

Richard drops his voice to a whine, “Whyyyy.” He holds the last syllable so long it comes out sounding like 'e.'

“Because I'm mad at you, and my taste in men, and the universe and my _life_.”

He sighs, and Derek imagines if Dick was a human, he would be face palming, “Look, I'm sorry that I got a little excited when I saw the outline Stiles' dick. It's just, I bet it's a nice dick and-” Derek throws Men’s magazine away from him and goes to take a cold shower. Richard doesn’t even have _eyes_ in order _to_ see the outline of Stiles' dick.

 

x.x.x

 

Derek doesn't see Stiles for two weeks. That might be because he's avoiding him, you know, you tend to not see people when you jump behind the closest bush when you hear them coming. One thing is for sure, his dick is still talking, and he definitely does not appreciate not being in Stiles, or Derek's hand.

This whole thing had caused Derek to accept things he had purposefully been blocking out. Unless it was late at night, he was in the confines of his own room, and he had his hand in his pants. Then he lets visions of stupidly pink cupid bow lips, moles like dark chocolate, and hot whiskey eyes dance in his mind. But he can't do that now, because he isn't willing to knock one out when his dick would most likely criticize his technique.

When this curse goes away, _if this curse ever goes away_ , Derek might just be traumatized enough to never want to touch his dick again.

That may be a little melodramatic, but the principle stands. This is getting ridiculous, his dick is increasingly persistent and determined to get Derek to at least press against him for a little friction. But he refuses, and this time when he refuses, his dick starts rapping, and when his dick starts rapping, he starts banging his head on the wall.

“As _strong_ as your _hands_ may be, you _cannot hold back_ what was _meant to be_.”

“What is he doing?” Isaac shouts from the kitchen, where he had taken shelter after insulting Derek's dick, not soon after Richard had declared that _'he didn't like that man,'_ and that Derek _'should just take them both to Stiles.'_

“He's been rapping for the past two hours.”

“And I ain’t _hangin_ ' around, beggin for no invite. Just don’t you ever sideline me,” the puns are slowly driving Derek insane.

“Bro,” Isaac says when he comes in through the door way, “don't ever sideline him.” Derek throws a book at his head.

 

x.x.x

 

Figures that while Derek gets a talking dick and reaches a midlife - quarter life?- crisis, Boyd and Erica decide to stop fooling around with other people and get together. After finally realizing they love each other with more passion than a couple hundred stars or so, they had come to a mutual agreement to end the bullshit and just go out, which is why Derek had lent them the keys to his car so they could go on their 'first ever official date.' Derek had spent a couple hours in captivity because of said date, being forced to tell Erica which shirt looked best.

Every time Erica came out of the dressing room wearing a new shirt or skirt, or shirt and skirt combo, Richard would sing “She's a lady.” Every. Time. Erica would giggle, and Derek would get closer to shutting his head in one of the dressing room doors.

In the end, Scott was busy dealing with his gay crisis over Isaac, Cora was off with Lydia probably conquering the world, and Stiles was... Derek wasn't thinking about Stiles. But either way Derek didn't have a car, or a ride home from the mall.

Which brings him to the bus stop, in the rain, receiving weird looks because his dick is rapping, “waiting for the bus in the rain, in the rain. Wishing I was on the bus, oh good here come the bus. Oh, shit! It's a different bus.”

Of course no one knows that it's actually his dick rapping.

He's pretty sure his eye starts twitching when a guy under a green umbrella starts hitting his thigh along with Dick's beat.

“Are you serious?” Derek finally says when all the people are staring at him and or laughing, “my mouth isn't even moving.”

An old lady that's sitting under the roof on the bench lifts her cane and says, “Ooo, are you a ventriloquist?”

“No, I was cursed by a Fairy and now my dick raps along to my _life_ with annoyingly relevant songs!”

The lady pouts and turns away from him, and a lot of the people in the crowd let out nervous laughs that probably mean they all think he’s high or something. Great.

Fuck it, he'll just run home.

 

x.x.x

 

“You're killing me,” Richard whines from the confines of his sweats. It's his fault, though, if he just stopped being hard, then it wouldn't be so uncomfortable. Really it's uncomfortable for the both of them so Richard should just stop being a prick and give Derek one night off. This whole 'consistently' and 'unpredictably' hard thing is beginning to fucking hurt along with wearing him the fuck out.

“Stop being so dramatic.”

“If your balls could talk, they would be crying.”

Derek turns and stuffs the pillow under his head, he was determined to tough it out tonight. “If my balls could talk, they would man up and take one for the team,” he mutters before a yawn.

“Man up? You cried when you watched Soul Surfer.”

He doesn't jerk off that night. But he does stuff a pillow in between his legs, to give the both of them at least some relief.

 

x.x.x

 

It was a mistake taking his stupid dick to the store, but he had gone on about rough sweatpants and how much they rubbed him raw, and not in a good way. After about the hundredth 'please,' Derek finally gave in and grabbed his keys.

Only, there are triple the amount of people at the store than there was at Applebees, and Richard can't seem to stay tucked in Derek's pants.

“Ey shawty, can I get yo numba?”

“If you say 'shawty' ever again I will wear cotton for the rest of your existence.”

When they get to the 'work out' section, it turns out Richard is pickier than most, and won’t settle for any of the things Derek suggests. Derek also ignores the looks he gets when he asks if, “these look good enough” out loud.

Richard suggests a rack around the corner, which Derek is still unsure how he knew it was there, but it's woman’s workout clothes. He picks up a pink pair of Victoria Secret sweatpants, “no way in the 5 layers of hell am I getting these.”

“But look at the material!” Derek lifts it up so that he can feel up the material at the bottom, it's not that he's considering it it's just that, it's soft.

“You are coddled more than most Chihuahuas.”

“I resent that.”

They fight and settle on a pair of mens yoga pants. Derek tries to walk out of the store with his dignity.

 

x.x.x

 

Derek does in fact know that he has to do something about this situation. Humility be damned. But in the end, it's actually Stiles that comes to his door.

“Hello,” Derek says it like it's a question.

Stiles rolls his eyes and pushes through the door and into the loft, “So we tracked down the trickster, who is apparently holding up residence in an abandoned-”

"Oh fuck am I glad to see you.”

Stiles eyes immediately drop to Derek's crotch, and it's the fact that Derek is actually used to people doing that by now, that makes him want to break the curse that much more.

“Uh, your dick is still talking.”

Derek sighs in frustration, “Yes Stiles, that's what happens when you get cursed by a fucking Fairy.” Stiles makes a thoughtful noise and keeps his eyes pointedly locked on Derek's crotch, “Stiles,” he snaps.

“Right, right, sorry, it's just,” he cuts himself off.

“What.”

“I just...didn't know. I thought the curse would be broken by now,” he doesn't look as confused as he does sheepish, which is confusing for more than a few reasons.

“How did you not know? How the hell would I have broken the curse, if I haven't seen you or Deaton in weeks?”

“Uh, you've been avoiding me, actually.” Stiles starts with a nervous laugh, running his fingers through his hair while he avoids Derek's eyes. He's right, and Derek should tell him he's right only Richard beats him to talking.

“Who cares about breaking the curse anyway? I'm a fucking party.”

Derek considers this, “How soon can I break the curse?”

If it's possible, Stiles looks even more uncomfortable when he looks up into Derek's eyes. His lips are pressed in a thin line, but he lets out a breath and moves to sit on the couch. Derek follows and Stiles starts explaining. “Okay so, Fae are a lot like witches in the way that they like to use human elements to bind spells. And by human elements I mean,” He clears his throat and scratches the back of his head, he looks more nervous than frustrated, “liquids; Fluids.” Derek must give Stiles a blank look, because he throws his head back and sighs, “Like let’s say that a Fae had cursed someone with a heart attack. The way to break the curse would be to draw blood, since the heart produces blood. So if say your reproductive system was cursed you'd...” Stiles rolls his hands and lifts his eyebrows.

“Okay...” Derek drawls out the last syllable, but Rich is quiet, so what Stiles is saying must be interesting.

Stiles looks absolutely pained when he says, “fuck, you're really gonna make me say it, aren't you?”

“Say _what_.”

He groans like this is hurting him internally, Derek can relate, “Well obviously you haven't _done it_ , or we wouldn't even be having this conversation. Because if Richard is still talking, then that means you haven't... But still, this happened weeks ago, and if you haven't... Dude, I feel for ya, you must have a horrible case of blue balls.”

Richard says “You're telling me,” while Derek simultaneously snaps “Stiles.”

“You have to...” which leads to Stiles making a crude motion with his hand, which is forming an o and moving back and forth through the air and... oh.

Derek isn't the only one who understands either. “You are actually my hero Stiles, I could just kiss you, if I had li-”

“So I just have to... And it'll?” He motions with his hand and Stiles matches the motion with one of his own, more flaily and more 'I have made contact!' than Derek's though.

“You'd need a, uh, second party, though.”

“Like who?

“Well, is anyone around?” Derek shakes his head.

“How soon do you want this curse lifted?” Stiles asks it as he runs one hand down his arm, Derek doesn't know why he's so nervous.

“As soon as possible,” Stiles nods his understanding.

“I could...uh, I could... help you?” Derek could have gotten whiplash with how fast he turned to look at Stiles, who was biting on his lower lip, a nervous gesture. “Deaton says that it's more likely to break if there's more energy put into it and well...” He lifts his hands and motions down his body, which Derek really wishes he wouldn't do since he has to follow the movement or he might _die_. “Spark and all,” a there and gone smile appears on his face and then he's turning to look at his lap, Derek can see a blush making its way into the collar of his shirt. Stiles must take notice of Derek's silence, stunned silence if he must say, and when he looks up at Derek his eyes are wide. “Or you know, I could just go because this is way out of line I mean, yeah, try to help Stiles, but don't help too much where you end up virtually offering up free hand jobs to get rid of talking dicks named Richard.” He presses his lip into a thin line while he watches Stiles flail, it's only a judge of his taste in men that he finds it incredibly endearing.

“You'd give me a hand job?” Derek says gently, like he's tasting the words on his tongue because he doesn't really believe he's saying them.

“Well, I wouldn't wanna choke Richard or something...” he slides lower in his seat, a sliver of skin coming into view as his shirt rucks up from the movement.

He's pulling at a thread from his khaki's and Derek says, “Okay.”

Stiles eyes shoot up, wide and searching while his mouth works for a moment. Derek's lips curve up slightly when Richard squeals.

Stiles ends up with his knees on the floor in front of the couch, in front of Derek, and in front of Richard. One of his hands is starred on Derek's naked thigh while the other grips his erection that sighs in relief because oh yeah this is happening because Derek has a talking dick.

That doesn't seem to ruin it, because Stiles is twisting his wrist as he pulls up Derek's length, and when he gets to the tip he brushes his thumb under the head like he knows that's the spot that makes Derek go crazy. It's agonizingly slow but the perfect pace all at once.

It's over quick, part because Derek has been so sexually strung the past few weeks that he's actually surprised he's lasting this long at all. Other part is because Stiles lips are parted, and Derek can hear the soft and private noises that breathe past his pink lips. Derek looks down at him from the place he had thrown his head back, Stiles is looking up at him through long, thick eyelashes, and the tiniest, pinkest blush is gathered at the apples of his cheeks.

Derek has kept his hands firmly at his sides, refusing to let them fist in Stiles brown locks because he's not sure he would let go once he got a feel. Instead they are attempting to fist the cushions of the couch, not getting far because the resistance of the fabric is very little. He had thrown his head back against the cushion a little after Stiles had gotten to his knees and took him in his hand.

And there he is now, his breath coming in puffs, back arching and his hands tighten that little bit more, before he's stammering “Sti-Stiles, I'm gonna-” and Stiles shifts, moves the once achingly far distance forward, and places the flat of his tongue under his head, and Derek is gone. Stiles closes his mouth to swallow before licking up to the slit, pulling a sensitive moan from Derek, and moving away.

 

x.x.x

 

Derek steps out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam and moisture following him out into the hallway. He doesn't have to walk far to find Stiles, since he's sitting on Derek's bed with one of the books from the bookshelf open in his hands. His eyelashes are long lines of striking black against his pale skin, and it makes Derek's skin itch because he'll never be able to see that again without knowing how they had looked with Stiles on the floor in front of him.

Stiles looks up from the book when Derek steps in the room, there's a soft and open smile on his face.

“So?” He sets the book aside, but not before he dog ears the page.

“No more rapping or sexual innuendos.”

Stiles smiles, “Well,” he clears his throat and rubs his hands on his clothed thighs, “Just-” he cuts himself off and bites on the corner of his lip, a look of regret playing on the edges of his eyes. Derek can feel his stomach drop.

“Just what?”

“I'm sorry it had to be me,” he's unnaturally quiet as the words cross their way to Derek, who creases his brow in confusion.

“Who else could it have been?”

“Uh,” he makes a noise that could be a laugh, but it's too breathy and short to be more than an exhale, “your girlfriend?”

Derek falters for a minute, mouth parting and closing as he tries to figure out where Stiles is getting his information exactly? “I don't have a girlfriend?”

He looks up at Derek with his head slightly tilted, his eyebrows creased and mouth opened slightly on a question he isn't asking. It isn't anything new because Stiles mouth is literally always open. After Derek gradually raises his eyebrow, Stiles throws his arms out and shouts, “But you were buying Victoria Secret sweatpants!” After searching Stiles face and pursing his lips to hide his smile, Derek honest to god, laughs. “Don't laugh asshole! I saw you!” Derek realizes that he's still in only a towel, but he can't help but bring one of the hands keeping it up to cover his laughing face as he moves towards the closet.

He had stuffed the yoga pants into the bottom of one of the drawers, hoping Richard would forget about them, “Actually, I bought these.” He holds them by the waist and lets the legs fall from the crumpled ball it was in.

“Are those... men’s yoga pants?”

“Richard didn't like how my sweatpants make him feel.”

Stiles' eyes catch on the white slip of paper still attached, “have you even tried them on yet?” He looks at Derek expectantly, the same look of arousal coming back clear into his features, Derek can't help the the curve of his lips.

“Nope,” Derek drops the towel confidently, appreciating the strangled noise that comes from Stiles' lips, and slips into the clothing. He runs his hands up his thighs, across his waist, around to his ass. Stiles' eyes track each movement, hands going lax in his lap as his tongue comes out to swipe across his lower lip. If Derek had any doubts before, they're gone now.

“Hmm, they're nice,” he mocks nonchalance as he steps up towards Stiles, who is racking his eyes up his body and when he reaches Derek's eyes, he’s breathing heavily.

“So you really don't have a girlfriend?”

Derek shakes his head, “Not since Blake.”

Stiles makes a noise of understanding, nodding solemnly as his throat works around a swallow.

“Do you want-” Derek is standing in between Stiles' knees now, looking down as he looks up, Stiles having cut off on account of Derek's hands finally finding their way into his hair.

A quiet gasp breathes through Stiles' lips when Derek gently tugs his head back the slightest amount, and Derek answers, “Yes.” Stiles' hands come up and when he searches Derek's eyes, he must have found something that convinced him, because he's tentatively settling them on his waist.

The moment they rest he's yanking Derek in by the tight grip on his hips, Derek goes willingly and is awarded with a hot open mouth on the smooth skin of his abs.

Stiles licks up from the waist line of the yoga pants, Derek closes his eyes and leans his head back. He kisses and nips and sucks his way back down until he's just pressing his forehead to Derek's hips, and by that time, Derek is having difficulty not throwing Stiles on the bed and just _taking_ , because he feels he might be allowed to now. “God, I can't believe you're letting me do this,” his voice is rough and wrecked and Derek wonders if he tried to speak, if it would sound the same.

Derek yanks Stiles upwards and then they're chest to chest, a disappointing lack of nakedness on Stiles' side. “I can't believe how long it took you to actually do it.”

“Hey, it's not my fault you're purposefully obtuse and send mixed signals, that shit is confusing.”

“I rated you a ten out of ten at _Applebees_.”

Stiles' smile is blinding, “that was me?”

Derek sighs and tightens his hold he has on Stiles waist, “you're extremely difficult to misjudge.”

Stiles is still smiling when he shoots forward to press his lips against Derek, there's too much teeth because Stiles can't stop smiling, but half way through Derek slides his hands under Stiles' shirt and up his back, and Stiles lifts his hands to cup either side of Derek's face. Teeth turn to tongue and playful and brief laughs turn into breathless panting, moans shared between locked mouths.

It's Stiles who pulls away first because he's the one who needs more oxygen out of the two. He doesn't pull too far though, only enough to rest his forehead against Derek's and leave his mouth open hotly against his own. He brings his hands back down to scope the soft fabric clothing Derek's ass,“Thank you Richard,” he whispers, and when Derek pulls him back into him, it feels right.

 

~fin

 

**Author's Note:**

> The songs Richard was rapping are actual songs.
> 
> No joke:
> 
> Urthboy- Don't Sideline Me  
> Satellite High- The Bus Is Late
> 
> Also, come, join me on [tumblr](http://raisesomehale.tumblr.com) and we can be insane ~together.


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